Sutradhara
Il Pescatore Verde Penny was drowning. The sea was like nothing she had ever seen before. It seemed to stretch into forever, but she supposed floating across it was only a matter of time and she had brought plenty of food. When she waded in it failed to support her weight like the quicksilver would and the waves dragged her far from the sand. Surprised and gasping, water flooded into her, salt burning her lungs. Deeper and farther the swift undertow dragged her. Her panic was fueled by the murky darkness, with no air and sound, the sensation of drowning doubled by memories of being caged in her tree. As her she struggled in the depths, she sensed a massive darkness approach her. It seemed to her as if a bottomless pit was rising out from the bottom, swimming toward her, to swallow her. Was it so impatient it could not wait for her to sink? And it all went black. Her back slammed into wood paneling and the vile agony of heaving and retching the salt from her body brought her back into consciousness. 'R'estraining her movements were thick cords of rough hemp, burning her limps as they abraded her skin and rubbed in salt. For a short while, she fought against the ropes constricting her movements, but made no progress. When she finally opened her eyes, leering green eyes stared back. The green eyes were set in a broad green face which in turn was topped by hair made of what seemed to be green grass. Ugly, yellow for a change, teeth chewed on the head of a fish, the tail hanging from the mouth. A large calloused hand, green if you must know, pulled the fish, sans head, and wiped the mouth clean. The sun was much higher in the sky than Penny remembered. "Well, Oi'll be. If'n it ain't a thrice-cursed puppet-fish. Oi never thought Oi'd get a secon' chance t' taste one o' ya. Defley wouldn'ave if'n that big fish 'ad caught up. It'll be a bad day if'n 'e ever catches me. As much as Oi'd like to get a bite o' 'im, Oi'm damned sure 'e feels the same toward me! Ha! 'E's like a dog with a bone, thattun." At the mention of dog, the ogre rubs his forearm and grimaces. Penny, her lungs still on fire with the dampness, had trouble correcting the ogre, or speaking at all for that matter. Grabbing oars, the green giant dipped them into the water and stroked once, the boat leaping at covering quite a distance in the single exertion. Quite swiftly the boat was rowed from open water into a cave open to the sea. Tying the boat to a metal ring set in the wall, the ogre stepped out and ascended a set of carved stairs, unceremoniously dragging the net with Penny still inside behind him with an oar resting on his shoulder.. Further back into the cave, and well above the highest water mark, the ogre unraveled the net and dumped Penny face first to the ground. Before Penny could so much as sit up, he held her down with the weight of his knee and stripped and trussed her. The rope was more of the rough hemp, irritating the wounds from the net and rough handling up the stairs, causing Penny to whimper a little. Her throat cracked a little with the noise, she was unbelievably thirsty. "Don' be goin' nowhere, puppet-fish. Oi ain't one ta calmly let a fish git away." The Fisherman walked over to a stone pit and grabbed a jar of clear liquid and tossed it in. The glass shattered at the bottom. He then pulled on a thick glove and reached into a pot, pulling out a glowing red rock. This he also tossed into the pit, causing a bright blaze to erupt out before settling down. After a few failed attempts, Penny's voice returned. "You have to realize that I'm not a fish." The ogre dragged a massive grill to the flaming pit and carelessly centered it. "Course ya is. Oi pulled you out o' the ocean. Yer a fish, and you ain't the first puppet-fish I seen neither, 'erefore yer e'en a 'ole breed o' fish. Yer also not the first ta try ta pull the wool o'er me eyes. I ain't been born yesterday." With a heave he dropped a massive pan onto the grill. Just large enough for Penny to lay in comfortably. "But you're talking to me! And I'm responding back! That's what people do. You wouldn't talk to a simple old fish would you? Or eat a person?" The grumpy green giant pulled out a small cask and uncorked it. The grease he poured in popped and crackled at the heat of the pan. "Course Oi talk ta fish. Ain't nobody else to talk ta here, now is there? Gotta jabber with the tunny and the cod or Oi'd go plum crazy. And I certainly wouldnae eat no people, that'd be a roight sign that Oi had gone loony. But people don' come out o' no ocean. They lives on land roight an' proper." The giant grabbed two sacks and upended them one at a time into the pan. Whole potatoes and carrots plopped into the grease. Grabbing his oar, the ogre stirred the vegetables. Penny worked on building up enough saliva to speak. "Listen, I really think you should get a second opinion on whether I'm a person or not. I'm carved from a tree. I would taste nothing like a fish and it would leave a lot of splinters in your mouth. It would be awful." The ogre paused his stirring and looked at her. "Splinters ain't no trouble at all. The other puppet-fish said much the same, so's Oi caught driftwood and flotsam when Oi 'ad the chance and practiced eatin' it. 'Course, 'Oo-knows-'ow-long-dead' wood wasn't quite ta taste, but it toughened up the mouth, an' Oi doubt fresh live puppet-fish ain't scores better. And that's e'en assumin' yer tellin' the truth about bein' made o' wood. But enough gabbin', time ta get ya in the flour. Need ta get ya fryin' afore the taters get burnt." The ogre walked to the ledge and grabbed a rope that led down into the water. He yanked once and a bucket with a perforated lid came soaring up for him to catch, with little spill. He pulled off the lid and readied to douse Penny when his eyes grew wide and he dropped the bucket. He scrambled to pick up some large loose cobbles. Penny followed his stare and saw a massive shadow in the waters of the cave, the level rising faster than the tide ever could. The ogre began chucking his improvised ammunition at it. "Git! Ya don' come in my home ya blasted fish! Ya wan' a bite o' me, take it on the open sea, fair an' square! Ya don' see me comin' ta the Bottom, 'arpoon in 'and, stalkin' ya! Git! Git! Git!" Each Git! was punctuated with a thrown stone. With the Fisherman distracted, Penny pleaded with the rope binding her to undo its knot. The rope twisted and pulled until it lay loosely coiled around her. Staring back at the shadow in the water, she could see it beginning to descend, the water level lowering with it. The ogre seemed satisfied that he had scared it off and turned his back on the water to grab the fallen empty bucket. He did not notice the small black shape detach from the immensely larger form and swim to the steps. The Fisherman tossed the bucket back down and cursed when he realized he forgot to put the lid back on. He began carefully pulling the bucket up so as not to lose the water. Penny slipped from her bonds and grabbed up the stirring oar. Mustering her courage, she swung it right into the back of the giant's head. Penny's hands hurt with the vibration that traveled down the oar. The Fisherman howled in pain and spun around, clipping Penny's arm with the bucket. The bucket shattered and her arm cracked. The infuriated ogre snatched away the oar and swung it down at Penny. The oar splintered on the ground in front of her. The Fisherman was raising up the broken instrument again when he halted at the sound of a burbling growl. Penny and the giant looked to the stairs where a bulge eyed monster with many tiny sharp teeth stalked up. It had the body of a wolf and the fur of an otter, water refusing to stick to its form. Its large paws were webbed and sharp claws clacked on the stone. With each breath its gills flared red. Its cold piranha eyes studied the ogre. "Not agin! No! Oi'll not 'ave a blasted mutt steal away my puppet-fish agin! Git! Or Oi'll smash yer 'ead roight in!" The ogre menacingly advanced on the fish-dog. The nictitating membranes over its eyes closed and it leapt at his throat. The ogre stumbled back and dropped his oar as the hound bit down on his neck. Grasping it by the ruff he tore the beast free. However, the jaws had not yielded the pound of flesh they had grabbed and rich red blood poured free from the hole in his neck. Bubbles formed in the wound as the ogre sucked in a breath to scream. In Penny's shock, she could only marvel at the contrast of red on green. The fish-dog swallowed the chunk of neck and sat down. Penny, cradling her broken arm, tried to stand. The hound stood as well and raised its hackles, growling, and only settling back down when Penny sat down. So, Penny sat and waited. Thirsty, hungry, in pain, and more than a little terrified of this seawolf. It was many hours later that the Warden found her in the cave, coming from some entrance on the land. The scent of long burnt carrots and potatoes covered the copper tang of blood. He had two of the piranha-dogs with him, their nostrils flaring as they scented the blood. He handed the leashes to his assistant, the Rat, and wrapped Penny up in a blanket and picked her up to carry her home. No. Not home. Just a house that she lived in. It hadn't the emotional connection for her to consider it home. Corvus The Warden finished setting the splint on Penny's arm. He gave it a critical look with his moon-sized eyes. Not satisfied with a certain knot, he retied it then pushed himself up with his bannered rod. His head spun around to count that all three fish-hounds and the Rat were still present. "Well, mademoiselle, only your arm was over injured, and that is set now. Your lungs will be irritated for a while, but there is no risk of fluid build up and your legs are fine. You should have no problem walking. After all, you made it this far on foot." Penny nodded, too busy eating a hefty fruit to reply. That Rat grumbled and yanked on the leashes of the fishdogs to get them up. "Damned right she can walk, but why didn't we bring along no goblin to ride? No good reason to have my dogs barkin' at me on account of a puppet what won't keep still." The Warden sighed and adjusted his belt. "You have the best of reasons. The Master wills it. As for the walking, that was entirely for my own exercise and I care not one whit for your 'dogs.' Additionally, show some respect for the girl. She is a veritable piece of art." The Rat looked away and shoulder the packs. He pretended to not notice that the Warden and Penny carried none, and began walking. "She's a piece of somethin' alright." The Warden clucked disapprovingly. "Pay no mind to Phillipe, mademoiselle. He has no culture to give him any perspective. I will send him to watch a show put on by Mangiafuoco. It will be a learning experience for him and double as a punishment in his eyes." His head took took a three-hundred and sixty degree view of the surroundings as they walked, then he leaned in conspiratorially. "You understand the Master will not be pleased, yes?" Penny swallowed her bite of fruit and nodded before speaking. "Most certainly. I don't know what punishment he will pick this time, but I'll not complain." A brave statement, but Penny felt much like the mouse under the immense gaze of her warden. His reply was soft. "If only you showed such stoicism towards staying here as you did your punishments. Why even attempt to leave? You owe a debt to the Master. You were broken and he fixed you. He taught you his own craft and sent for tutors so that you may learn to dance. And he ensured that your body would excel in these pursuits, in a manner no mortal could ever reproduce. Not only must you stay here, you should believe it your strongest duty. The punishments themselves should not even be necessary to compel you." Penny let the fruit fall from her hands, the pulp picking up dust as it rolled. "I apologize for how it inconveniences you, but I believe with every fiber that being punished for attempting it is the greatest reason of all to leave. I simply wanted to walk elsewhere at first, but now it is my burning desire to escape, and each punishment only stokes that desire." Three days later (and many fine points of philosophy presented by the Warden to Penny rebutted by pure stubbornness) later, The Warden announced that he could see home. This, of course, meant quite a few more hours of walking. Once inside the house Penny went directly to the workshop and climbed up a stepladder to lay upon the worktable. Already waiting for her was the Doctor. The Warden ambled in soon after Penny and at seeing the Doctor seemed of of two minds about staying in the room, head pointed in one directing and feet the other. He instead settled for an awkward greeting, in tone if not wording. "Good evening, Crow. You are doing well, I hope?" The Doctor nodded and began to inspect Penny as he replied, using the stepladder to get the height he needed. "Good evening to you too, Owl. I am doing quite well, thank you for asking. My practice is booming and such. Your... trees are in good health, I expect?" He listened to Penny's breathing with his stethoscope. The Warden seemed rather flustered, betrayed by ruffling of feathers if not color. "Yes, excellent health. I do my best to ensure that. The Master would be in quite a mood if they died before he had the opportunity to repair them. Death brings one of the states of being he can't fix." The Doctor nodded at the Warden's words then gently held up Penny's arm and inspected it, paying close attention to the splint tied around it. "We can only hope." The Crow said softly, then speaking up. "This is a good splint, I'm glad to see you still have opportunities to show off your skill. And as for you young girl, I suggest you stay away from the ocean until you know how to swim and away from that fisherman until you know how to fend off giants." Penny long ago stopped wondering how the Doctor could tell the story of her exploits from wounds alone. Fire-Eater Category:Fiction